’ Miss Froxfield intervened quickly as her betrothed showed signs of erupting again. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. “Hey,” he said, his eyes slowly adjusting to the soft blackness. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. She went further: she doubted that he was fully conscious of where he was. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. "Your enemy!" she returned imperfectly comprehending him.
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